We'll Always Have Paris

Finally, I’d like to dedicate this chapter to my baby girl who turns one today! Happy birthday, sweetie!!! She is the greatest thing I have ever experienced in my life.

We’ll Always Have Paris

Chapter 7

“I still can’t believe you talked me into this. Our last night in Paris, and I’m spending it in the biggest Muggle tourist trap in the entire city.”

“Trust me. You’re going to love it,” Hermione assured Draco. “The best time to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower is before sunset. The view is breathtaking.”

But she had already stolen his breath once that evening. He wasn’t entirely sure he had quite gotten it back yet either. “Maybe it’s just been charmed to make gullible Muggles, such as yourself, think that load of rubbish just to make more money.” Draco pondered this line of reasoning. “Hmmm. Perhaps not all Muggles are as mindless as I thought.” He laughed lightly as he ran his fingers through his hair in an easygoing relaxed way.

Hermione poked him lightly in the arm and countered, “I am not gullible. And I already told you, the Eiffel Tower has absolutely no magical charms on it. It’s 100% Muggle, built by the blood, sweat, and tears of physical labor.”

”That would explain why there are no walls surrounding this thing,” Draco remarked, a sly smile breaking free from his mouth. “They put all their blood, sweat, and tears into putting all the girders and steel beams up. By the time they got around to putting some walls to cover everything, they were too bloody tired and lazy to go on, so they decided to leave it as is and go get drunk and fat on some cheap wine and moldy cheese.” He laughed, finding himself terribly funny, and Hermione, glad for the first light-hearted moment that day, laughed with him. He was trying to keep his excitement in check as the elevator soared higher and higher to the top, but Hermione could see the anticipation gleaming in his eyes. He reminded her of herself as a young girl riding up in this same elevator with her parents waiting to reach the top for the first time. She thought she’d never feel that exhilaration again. She had visited the Eiffel Tower with her parents on every trip to France she had taken, but never with the same thrill as the first time. But now, as Draco’s eyes danced like silver fairy lights, she felt that rush once again and her heart pounded with excitement at seeing the city and the spectacular view, which awaited them at the top.

Finally reaching its destination, the elevator stopped roughly. Hermione’s legs wobbled a bit, but she admired Draco’s ability to not waver in the least, even more so since she realized it was probably the first Muggle elevator Draco Malfoy had ever ridden.

When they stepped out, Hermione heard a small gasp escape from Draco’s mouth. The sight of Paris spread beneath them was positively breathtaking. The sun was just setting. There was a cool breeze, but too cold. The lights in all the cafes down below were just coming on, reflecting like sparkling gems in the rippling waters on the Seine. She could see for miles around; the magnificent city in its most charming hour.

Draco couldn’t speak; his mouth halted by the stunning splendor of Paris. The lights all around seemed to be generating their own form of magic, twinkling in patterns across the darkening sky. He wondered how his father could ever justify shielding him from such an awe-inspiring sight. Had his father ever been at the tope of the Eiffel Tower before? Would Lucius think differently of it if he could see the vision spread out before Draco that night?

As they stood there together at the guardrail, her shoulder brushing lightly against his arm, she could tell Draco’s thoughts were drifting over the amazing city beneath them and reaching across the sea to England. His voice was neutral when he spoke, “When I was a boy, my father took me to Paris on one of his business trips. While he went to meetings, Brigitte- my nanny- and I roamed all around magical Paris, but she would never dare take me to the Muggle side for fear of what my father would say … or do. One day we were eating lunch in the floating restaurant over the Louvre, and I spotted an immense, iron-looking tower piercing the skyline. I begged Brigitte to take me, but she refused. She said my father forbade her to take me anywhere near anything Muggle, because Muggles were filthy and spread diseases. But I asked Father for permission anyway. He refused. He said the Eiffel Tower was nothing special.” As the sun kissed the horizon and settled in for the night, Draco’s voice warmed with emotion, “But he was wrong.”

His eyes flickered to Hermione standing beside him. She was looking straight ahead, but he could feel she was listening intently to his every word. She always did. He looked slowly around and saw young couples kissing and holding hands as they strolled along. Suddenly it struck Draco that he was standing atop one of the most romantic monuments in the world with a girl he used to think was beneath him. A girl he not only didn’t hate anymore, but who also seemed capable of making him reveal his most intimate secrets with just her mere presence. Uncomfortable by the serious vibes enveloping them, Draco pushed himself away from the bar and added some much needed distance between Hermione and him. He jerked his head toward the elevator and smiled. “Let’s see what kind of night life this town has. I was so wound up about that presentation today, I just realized I haven’t eaten a thing since that croissant this morning. I’m famished.” With a flash of his radiant smile, he smirked, “Come on, Granger. You’re buying me dinner.”

Hermione laughed and tore her eyes away from what remained of the picture-perfect sunset, her back pressed against the rail. “Really? And just why am I buying you dinner, Mr. I’m-so-rich-even-my-shoelaces-are-trimmed-in-gold?”

“Because I spent the last of my Muggle money yesterday on the t-shirt I bought for Professor Snape. I’ll bet he’ll be a really big hit in the teacher’s lounge when he wears it.”

Hermione snorted slightly as she pushed herself away from the rail. She stepped a few paces so she and Draco were standing barely a foot apart. “I’ll bet you’re right. Who wouldn’t be envious of a shirt that said ‘My student went to Paris and all he brought me back was this dumb t-shirt’?”

They were almost back to the gateway to the magic side of Paris when Hermione saw it on the other side of the Champs Elysees: Le Cellier, a Muggle club with a bright neon sign hanging over the door. She had noticed it the last time she had visited Paris with her parents before the start of fourth year. They only had about an hour left before their midnight curfew was up, but she suddenly felt full of energy. This had been one of the best days she could remember, and she did not want it to end. She grabbed Draco by the wrist and pulled him across the street. “Come on. We’re gonna have some fun.”

She expected Draco to resist, even just a bit, but he let her lead him to the bright lights in silence. He didn’t utter a sound as she paid their cover charge, as the bouncer stamped their hands with an “Under-18” red mark so they couldn’t buy alcohol, or even comment about the blinking strobe lights or blaring music. He seemed completely unfazed, but undeniably curious, about the whole club scene before him.

Hermione started making her way to the dance floor, but this time Draco grabbed her wrist. She turned to look at him, his silver eyes reflecting the blinking lights like two mirrors. “Where are you going?” he asked, shouting so she could hear him over the loud music.

“To the ladies’ room,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“What about me? You’re not just going to leave me here to fend for myself against all these Muggles?” He looked about warily. “What if one of them tries to talk to me?”

She cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘one of them’? They’re just Muggles. They don’t bite.” But just then a group of girls, wearing thick leather dog-collars and with piercings in just about every visible opening on their faces, walked by leering at Draco and eyeing him like a lioness sizing up her next mate. “OK, well, maybe some bite.” She smiled at the horrified look on Draco’s face. “Jeez, I’m just kidding, Malfoy. Lighten up. We have a lot to celebrate. Our presentation was a smashing success and you made good on the Malfoy family name. We both deserve some fun.”

“Fun or no fun, I’m not talking to any of these Muggles.” He saw the humor dancing in Hermione’s eyes and quickly added, “and I’m not dancing either.” He pushed his shoulders back proudly. “Malfoys don’t dance.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, “Fine. Then just go grab a table and try not to hex anybody while I’m gone. I won’t be long.” She turned quickly, and Draco watched closely as she disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone.

He tried getting a drink of pumpkin juice at the bar, but the bartender eyed him peculiarly. There was a girl with the same “Under 18” red mark stamped on her hand standing a few feet away from him. Draco pointed toward her. “What’s she drinking?” he asked the bartender.

“A Diet Coke,” the bartender replied.

“I guess I’ll try one of those.” He took a sip of his drink at the bar. It was very sweet and fizzed, making his nose tingle and causing him to sneeze. Then someone grabbed his ass, but when he turned around to see who it was, it was just a crowd of people. That made him feel perhaps sitting somewhere might be a better option. He wandered about aimlessly for a bit, searching for an empty table. Luckily two people vacated a small table just as he was making their third trip around the small club. He jumped into one of the chairs and was pleased to see the table had an excellent vantage point of the hallway leading to the restrooms. This way he’d be able to get Hermione’s attention as soon as she emerged. While he waited, he looked around at all the Muggles in the club, observing them up close for the first time in his life. He had to admit, it was a bit anticlimactic for him. Of course, he had seen Muggles before, but never so many in such a small area. After growing up at Malfoy Manor, listening to his father’s anti-Muggle rhetoric day in and day out, Draco had imagined Muggle places like this would have been filled with half-witted, moronic, miserable vermin. But instead, they all seemed rather normal. In fact, if they were wearing robes, the people at Le Cellier might actually look like the wizards and witches Draco had seen at one of the clubs he had visited in Diagon Alley over the summer. He kept watching the long line for the ladies room, but it never seemed to move. Yet another similarity between this club and the one in Diagon Alley. The line for the men’s room always seemed empty, but the line for the ladies’ room always seemed to stretch on for miles.

After what seemed like an exceptionally long time, Draco finally saw Hermione emerge from the dark hallway, chatting animatedly with two girls Draco had never seen before. He saw Hermione looking around, presumably for him, but she did not see him. A cute blonde girl was looking about the club and spotted Draco waving in their direction. She smiled curiously and tugged on Hermione’s arm to get her attention. The girl pointed in Draco’s direction, and then the three of them started walking toward him at the table.

“Hey, Draco. I see you found a table.” Draco stood up as Hermione and her new friends approached where he was sitting. Hermione was smiling, albeit forcibly. She could see a blanket of annoyance descend on his silvery eyes like a curtain. She knew it was one thing to have Muggles at a nearby table, but a completely different story to waltz up with two of them in tow and expect him to carry on a conversation. She just hoped he would not overreact. Before he could speak, Hermione jumped in, “This is Maria and Liz.” She pointed at each one of the new people as she said their names. “They’re Americans. While we were waiting in line, I overheard them speaking English and I couldn’t resist asking them where they were from.”

“That’s you, Granger,” he spoke acidly, his smile betraying the fake warmth in his eyes. “Always ready to stick your nose in.” He spoke low enough so that only Hermione could hear him.

“We ended up talking, and she said you’re both here as exchange students, too.” Liz

“Maria and Liz are part of a semester-at-sea program with a college from the States. They’re just passing through Paris on their way to Lisbon. Isn’t that interesting, Draco?” She knew he was uncomfortable around Muggles, but she still felt there was no excuse for his blatant rudeness, Malfoy name or no Malfoy name. These were perfectly friendly people, and he was acting like the contemptible Slytherin she had not seen in a few weeks. She poked him in the ribs.

Hermione was actually glad to have met these two Americans. When she and Draco had stood at the top of the Eiffel Tower, she could feel her body warming to him, wanting to be close to him. And then she had pulled him to this club without thinking about it. It was an impulse. But now that they were here, she started panicking that this entire evening had seemed very date-like. Adding two more to their party would counteract that. She hoped.

“Ow,” he yelped, but then recovered quickly. “I mean, how are you? It’s so nice to meet you.” Deciding he didn’t want a black and blue rib cage, he turned on the charm. “Will you be staying in Paris long?”

At the sound of his voice, Maria and Liz looked like they might actually swoon. Maria giggled and cooed, “Oooh, what a sexy voice. You sound just like James Bond.”

“James who?”

“You know. James Bond. 007. International spy.”

“I’m sorry. I still don’t know him.”

Hermione jumped in to help, “James Bond. He’s a character in the movies.”

Realization dawning, Draco replied, “Oh, you mean the cinema. Sorry, I don’t view movies that often. It’s quite a mindless form of entertainment, isn’t it? I prefer reading instead.”

An apologetic smile on her face, Hermione looked over at the two Americans. Then she grabbed Draco by the arm and yanking him to the side of the table, “What do you think you’re doing? Could you be any more rude?”

“Me? What about you? What in the hell am I supposed to say to two American Muggles? You must be mad bringing them over here.”

“They happen to be very nice and they’re starting to wonder why you’re acting so strangely. Honestly, Draco, they’re strangers here, just like us – the least you can do is try to be at least marginally pleasant.” Draco was unswayed, so she tried a different approach, “Think of it as an experiment. When you get back to Hogwarts, you can tell wildly exaggerated tales of your brush with Muggle wildlife. You’ll be a big hit in the Slytherin dungeon.”

He couldn’t stop the smirk, “I’m already a big hit in the Slytherin dungeons. I’ve even heard talk of there being a calendar with my likeness circulating amongst the first and second years.” He glanced at the now nervous-looking girls on the other side of the table and then back at Hermione. He sighed heavily, “Well, what do I do? I don’t know anything about Muggle girls, and American ones at that.”

She laughed, “You make it sound like they’re blast-ended skrewts! Listen, just let them do all the talking. Ask them questions about themselves and nod like you’re paying attention. Girls like it when you listen to what they’re saying.” Then she grinned, “I really don’t think it’s going to matter what you say anyway. They seem quite taken with you already.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it wouldn’t be completely out of the question to spread some of my Malfoy charm around a bit. This place could certainly use some class.” Oh dear Lord, I’ve created a monster, Hermione scolded herself silently. With that he turned his attention to the two new girls, “So this Jim Bond character you were talking about … is he a snazzy dresser, devastatingly handsome, and does he leave a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes?”

“Oh yes. He’s quite the ladies’ man,” Maria agreed sweetly. She was a petite girl with a soft voice and bright blue eyes. Her hair was short and a deep golden blonde, and it was a trendy and fun cut, the kind Hermione always imagined she’d get if her hair weren’t so thick and hard to tame.

“Well then, I can see how he’d remind you of me,” Draco acknowledged, and then he flashed his most charming smile at Maria, but his eyes snuck a quick peek at Hermione and winked before turning his attentions back to the delightful girl next to him.

Hermione laughed, “Oh, just what you need, Draco. More fuel to add to your bonfire of an ego.”

Hermione felt a light touch on her arm. Liz leaned in, “It’s a good thing you told us already Draco isn’t your boyfriend. I think Maria sort of likes him.” Liz was taller than Maria, with shoulder length sleek brown hair and olive skin. Her eyes were the color of dark chestnuts, warm and inviting and friendly. Liz nodded her head toward Draco and Maria across the table. “She’s always been a sucker for accents.” Hermione smiled, too, to be polite, but for an instant she regretted not finding less charming Muggles to introduce to Draco.

Liz spoke up, “Hermione, how about you and I go get us some drinks? I’ll bet your French is a heck of a lot better than mine. Instead of a Coke, I’d probably end up ordering dish water.”

As Hermione stood from the table, Draco gave her one final glance then turned his attention back to Maria, leaving Hermione feeling curiously envious.

As they made their way through the crowd, Liz leaned toward Hermione, “I know when we were in the ladies room, you told Maria and me that the guy here with you tonight was not your boyfriend. But why on earth not? How do you not melt when he looks at you with those piercing eyes of his? I wouldn’t be able to get through any of my classes if I knew he was sitting near me.”

You have no idea, she thought silently, but then, not wanting to betray her real feelings, Hermione rolled her eyes, “Oh please, Liz. He’s just Malfoy.” This obviously had no meaning for Liz. Hermione tried to clarify, but all that came out was, “I can’t explain it. He’s just Malfoy, an insufferable git, who flaunts his family’s money and takes pride in the fact that he’s the most arrogant student in our year, probably in the whole school.” She knew she didn’t really feel that way about him anymore, but she couldn’t even explain her feelings to herself. How could she explain them to a stranger? Hermione could feel herself getting all worked up as she thought about it.

Liz smiled, her eyes twinkling, “But he sure knows how to get a rise out of you, doesn’t he?”

When they got back to the table, Maria was telling Draco a very detailed story about the time she went backpacking through western Europe. They spent the next 30 minutes getting to know each other, laughing and having a good time.

“OH MY GOD!” Liz screamed so loud and fast, Hermione reflexively reached for her wand inside her robe pocket, but suddenly remembered that since she wasn’t wearing her robes, she didn’t have her wand with her. Then Liz grabbed her by the arm and pulled Hermione to her feet, “Come on. I absolutely LOVE this song. We have to go dance.” It was fast, and loud, with deep bass that boomed so loud Hermione could feel the beat pounding in her stomach.

Maria looked expectantly at Draco, but he drawled, “Oh no. Malfoys do NOT dance, especially to this type of music.”

“Oh, I love this song,” Liz squealed with delight. “Come on, Hermione. Let’s get out on the dance floor.”

She looked over at Draco who was listening very intently to one of Maria’s stories and couldn’t help the thought that sprang to her mind: I said to be friendly; but that’s overdoing it a bit. She leaned over the table and got their attention, “Liz and I are going on the dance floor. Would you two like to join us?”

Draco drawled back, “How many times do I have to say it, Granger. Malfoys don’t dance.” Then he glanced over at Maria and added, “Besides, Maria here has been telling me all about her brother’s extensive comic book collection. But run along. Don’t let me hold you back.”

”OK, then. Liz, let’s go dance and have fun.”

“Yes, let’s go flirt feverishly with cute guys and make every other girl in here jealous because everybody wants to dance with us.”

Hermione had serious doubts that she could ever make anyone feel that way, but she was certainly up to the task. If Draco could unwind in a Muggle club, so could she. They slid onto the dance floor and were enjoying themselves immensely, dancing with all different people, when Liz leaned over and spoke in Hermione’s ear, “Oh no. Don’t look now, but I think you’ve been detected on the Kevin Flaherty Chick Radar screen.” She explained quickly, “Kevin is this big asshole on the Semester At Sea with Maria and me. He is extremely arrogant, thinks he’s God’s gift to women, and flat out refuses to take ‘No’ for an answer.”

“Hey there, Liz.” Kevin slid up to Hermione and Liz ogling Hermione in her little black dress like she was a ripe peach just waiting for a big strong man like himself to pluck her from her tree. He was medium-height and well-built with light brown hair cut very close to his head. Hermione figured he spent lots of time working out to get his arms as big as they were. He wasn’t alone either. He had a couple of friends with him, and they all resembled each other – same hair cut, same jeans, same physique. Their only major difference was that they wore different shirts.

“Hello, Kevin,” Liz responded through gritted teeth. “Don’t you have anyone else to bug tonight?”

“But you’re so much fun to bug,” he smirked, walking around Hermione and checking her out from every angle. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your sexy little friend? Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners, Liz?” He took Hermione’s hand in his and was raising it to his mouth to kiss it, like some sort of gentleman caller, but Hermione pulled it back quickly and tugged a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“A simple ‘How do you do?’ will suffice. Thank you.” Hermione remarked tartly. Subconsciously, Hermione glanced in the direction of where Draco still sat at their table, and was surprised to see him looking directly at her over Maria’s head, a quizzical expression on his face.

“Well, what do you know, boys? Liz’s hottie friend here is English. ‘Would you like a spot of tea?’” he asked in a horrid British accent, which made Hermione wince at how awful one person could mangle the English language. But he and his cronies found his pathetic attempt at humor utterly amusing.

Draco had a ringside seat to what was happening on the dance floor and watched the whole scene unfold. He could not hear what they were saying, but Hermione’s body language spoke volumes, and she obviously did not want to be anywhere near the big guy with little to no hair. He had often been the recipient of those venomous looks of hers and knew the get-together on the dance floor was definitely not a friendly one. He also knew she could handle herself just fine – his face had stung for 20 minutes after the wicked slap she had given him in their third year. But some strange part of him was feeling protective. Completely unaware he was cutting Maria off in mid-sentence, he inquired, “Do you know those blokes Hermione and Liz are with?”

Maria turned around and looked over her shoulder so she could see the dance floor. When she turned back to Draco, she scrunched her face and said with disdain, “That’s Kevin and his motley crew. They’re on the boat with Liz and me. They’re the worst part of our whole trip, and we still have two months to go. I don’t know how we’ll make it. They’re just awful to be cooped up with on the open sea. The program really should have a more stringent application process.”

When he saw Kevin take hold of Hermione’s hand and her subsequent tugging away, Draco promptly jumped from his seat like a jack-in-the-box. His sudden movement caused Maria to start a bit as well. “Maria, would you like to dance?”

“I thought you said, ‘Malfoys don’t dance’?”

“There’s a first time for everything. Come on,” he reasoned, his voice hard. As they moved quickly to the floor, Draco placed his hand inside his jacket to make sure his wand was still inside.

“Is there a problem?” Draco asked as he moved directly next to Hermione. From his seat across the room, Draco could tell Kevin and his friends were rather large, but now that he was standing face-to-face with them, he could see just how huge they actually were. But it made no difference; Draco showed no hints of being even remotely intimidated.

“Draco, everything’s fine. Why don’t you and Maria just go back to the table?” Hermione reasoned. The last thing she wanted was a scene or to draw attention to them.

“Yeah, pretty boy, everything’s fine, so why don’t you mind your own business?” He looked sidelong at Hermione. “This lovely young lady was just begging me to dance with her, and I couldn’t turn down such a great offer from such a sweet piece of ass.”

Draco made a move to start toward Kevin, but Hermione stepped in between the two boys so her back faced Kevin. She pressed her hand against Draco’s chest. “Draco, let’s just say goodnight to Liz and Maria and get out of here. It’s almost midnight anyway, and we have to get back to the hotel before then.”

But Kevin was sneering at Draco over Hermione’s shoulder, and Draco knew he had to do something to permanently wipe it off. Just as Draco was reaching into his jacket to pull out his wand, Kevin grabbed hold of Hermione from behind, spinning her toward him. With lightning speed, she managed to get enough space between them and elbowed him right in the ribs with her right arm. While he was gasping for air, Hermione pulled her leg up into Kevin and kneed him in the groin, leaving him moaning and groaning … and very, very pissed off.

“You uptight little bitch!” he screamed furiously. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He lunged at her, but she thrust her hand forward, the heel of her palm meeting his nose with a disgusting crunch. Hermione broke Kevin’s nose, and the blood was flowing freely.

Kevin’s three big, burly friends went to grab Hermione, but she didn’t see them. She was looking down at Kevin, sprawled out on the ground trying to cover his nose. Draco saw their every move, but he was standing on the other side of their little circle. He couldn’t help Hermione from where he was standing without using his wand He didn’t even think of what would happen to him for doing magic in a room full of Muggles. Instinctively, he thrust his hand inside his jacket, looked quickly to make sure everyone was still fixated on the fact that a thin girl like Hermione could take down a muscle-head like Kevin, and drew his wand. Quietly he whispered, “Aintofay Ueday!” and a smoky stream of light shot forth at Kevin’s cronies. It was a fainting hex. The first one fell flat on his face, and the other two promptly landed on top him like a couple of dominoes.

Hermione spun around, saw the three guys lying in a heap on the floor, Draco placing something inside his jacket pocket, and the obviously pleased-with-himself smirk dancing across his mouth, and put two and two together. He’d used magic. “Bugger!” she yelled, grabbing Draco by the hand, trying to pull him away. “We have to get out of here.”

“But the fun’s just starting,” he laughed. He looked over her shoulder and saw Kevin rising shakily to his feet and could hear the grunts of his extremely unhappy friends disentangling themselves from their mound on the floor. “On second thought, perhaps you’re right.” He turned quickly to a very confused Maria and glanced at his bare wrist with its nonexistent watch, “My my, will you look at the time. It was lovely to meet you, but it appears we’re leaving now. So long.”

Hermione yanked his hand and started pulling him through the crowd. They ducked as they passed the bouncer, who was trying to fight his way into the crowd to see what the big commotion was. When they saw the front door, they sprinted and flung it open, smashing it against the wall outside with a loud bang.

They took off down the street not paying any attention to where they were going. They could hear the shouts and threats from Kevin and Co., who seemed to be getting closer. They needed to throw their pursuers off their trail, and Draco saw the perfect way to do it. Draco never thought he’d be so happy to see another one of those blasted fire hydrants again, but he spotted one at the end of the next corner and got an idea. He reached into his jacket once more and pulled out his wand. He looked over his shoulder to see how far the others were behind them.

“Have you gone completely mad? We’re already going to be in trouble with the Ministry for that stunt you pulled in front of the Muggles back there,” Hermione scolded between her gasps for air.

“The stunt I pulled? What about you?”

“What about me? I didn’t need you to hex anyone. I can take care of myself.” This was true. Last summer, Hermione had taken self-defense classes with her mother. At first she didn’t think she would ever need them, but her father had insisted, because she wasn’t allowed to use magic during her summer holidays. “There’s lots of sick weirdoes out there, honey,” he had reasoned. She never thought she would actually have to use her skills.

“Pardon me, but I thought even the oh-so-smart Hermione Granger might have had some difficulty fighting off four muscle-bound maniacs.” He was getting annoyed with her. Here he’d helped out in what he thought was a spectacular fashion, and all she could do was criticize. “Sorry I’m not as adept at saving the day as your old boyfriend Potter. He probably could have hog-tied them all at once with one hand tied behind his back.”

“Will you just give that a rest and leave Harry out of it. He has absolutely nothing to do with this.” She quickened her pace, trying to get away from Kevin and perhaps even Draco. That dig about Harry was uncalled for. “The French Ministry has probably already contacted McGonagall about what happened back in the club.”

“Then one more little spell won’t hurt. Especially if it puts some distance between us and those buffoons.” When they were about 15 feet past the hydrant, he stopped running and turned around, wand out and ready. He pointed it at the hydrant and said, “Eleaseray leviatas!” A yellow light burst forth just as the others were running past the hydrant. The cover shot off, drenching everything in its path and effectively slowing their pursuit of Draco and Hermione. Draco laughed heartily as Kevin and his friends tripped all over each other trying to get out of the path of the spraying water and so they could catch Draco and Hermione.

Upon hearing Draco’s laughter and Kevin’s disgruntled yelps, Hermione stopped running and spun around, taking in the scene before her. “We are in such big trouble,” she moaned.

“One crisis at a time, Granger,” he replied, and he took her hand in his. “Come on, I know where we are. I recognize this street from when we came to lunch the other day. I know where we can hide.” They took off down the street once again, the water-spewing fire hydrant adding a much needed buffer, but they both knew Kevin would not give up so easily, especially not now after they were drenched, which only added insult to injury. They ran down the street a few blocks, and then Draco pulled Hermione to the right, down another side street. About three quarters of the way down he stopped and said, “In here.” He placed his hand on her lower back and directed her into a very narrow gap between an outdoor café and a dress shop. It was dark and creepy, but it was a good place to hide for a little while.

“How did you remember this spot?” Hermione gasped, grateful for a break from running to give the cramps in her side a chance to pass.

Draco was leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to get some air into his lungs. “I remembered thinking, when I saw it the other day, that it might be the Muggle side entrance to a magical shop. Like the Leaky Cauldron’s. When Muggles pass it they see nothing, but when magical people pass it, it just seems like a gap between two buildings at first. After a few seconds though I realized it was just a dark gap between two buildings and nothing more.”

She smiled at him, her breathing slowly returning to normal, “You haven’t been reading up on Muggles behind my back, have you?”

He pushed himself from his knees, a smile curling around his lips, but before he could come back with a snappy reply, they both heard shouts coming near them.

“Bollocks! That’s Kevin. Doesn’t that guy ever give up?” Hermione was exasperated.

“Granger, you broke his nose in front of a crowd of people. What do you expect him to do? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who appreciates getting his ass kicked by a girl in front of a roomful of people.” Kevin was getting dangerously close. Draco had an idea. “Move back as far against the wall as you can. I’m going to try something.”

“What are you …”

“Shhh. I need to concentrate.” Hermione pushed herself as far against the wall as she could and Draco moved in beside her. He pointed his wand at the area in front of them, closed his eyes tightly in concentration, and murmured, “Temporario concealmentos.” A bright blue light shot forth and swirled in front of them. The swirling wall hovered in front of them, covering the entrance to their hiding spot. She recognized it immediately. It was a concealment charm, a very advanced one, which she only knew about from an extra-credit assignment she had done the previous year for Professor Flitwick. Hogwarts students didn’t learn those until seventh year.

Huddled close together in their space, hearts pounding from all the running, adrenaline coursing through their veins, Hermione and Draco stood behind the protection of Draco’s well-timed concealment charm. Breathing quickly, Hermione quickly asked, “Where did you learn to do that? It’s very advanced magic.”

Instead of answering her, Draco placed his hand over her mouth and whispered urgently, “Shhh. It’s not a full concealment charm. I can only get it to last for a few minutes, and it’s not soundproof. So be quiet and be very still.”

At that second, Hermione and Draco watched as Kevin and his friends ran past their hiding place. For a heart-stopping moment, they were each certain Kevin could see them. He stopped right in front of them, dried blood sprayed down the front of his shirt, dark circles already forming under his eyes courtesy of his broken nose, clothes sopping wet. He seemed to look directly into their faces. If it weren’t for the bluish tint indicating the concealment charm was still working, Hermione would have sworn Kevin was peering right into her eyes with a menacing glare. They heard one of his friends call out, “Hey, Flaherty, are you sure you saw them take off down here? I don’t see anything.”

Finally Kevin turned his eyes away from their invisible, albeit temporary, sanctuary and took off in the direction of his friend. “Maybe they went a little further on down. I could have sworn I saw that bastard’s blond hair turn down here though. If I ever get my hands on the little bitch that did this to me, she’ll be sorry.”

Draco and Hermione listened intently as the sound of running footsteps grew fainter and fainter. When it was silent outside, she took hold of Draco’s hand, which was still covering her mouth, and brought it down by her side, but she did not release it. She could practically hear Draco’s heart pounding fiercely against his chest. She looked up at him, his eyes dancing from the excitement, the fright, and the rush of what happened.

“Where did you learn that charm? Who showed you how to do it?” she asked, more out of reflex than genuine interest. Her inquisitive mind always raced forth before the rest of her senses could catch up. When they finally did, she realized she really didn’t care one bit about the damn spell. She was standing right up against Draco, her face inches from his, their hearts still beating rapidly from their escape. The events of the past six weeks flooded her senses, refusing to be ignored any longer. All the looks, the intimate moments, the little insights into him she knew he had never shared with anyone before. His grey eyes bore into hers, unflinching and filled with emotion. It was freezing outside, but her body was burning up. Who cared where he learned some silly charm? Certainly not Hermione. With one final surge of adrenaline, she stood on her toes to bring her lips against his in a firm, startlingly sweet kiss.

They stayed that way for a few moments, but for all Hermione knew, it could have been an eternity. She felt like she was spinning around in circles, unsure of where she was or how to stop, too shocked to move and too stunned to react. Rationality finally crept back into her mind, and the enormity of her all too impulsive actions dawned on her, causing her legs to suddenly feel like they would collapse if he looked away from her. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, was all that her mind could process. She started to lean back on her feet, to firmly plant herself back on the ground. Slowly she pulled her lips away from Draco’s, never once breaking eye contact.

Their connection had barely broken, their lips separated by the width of a feather, when Draco reached his arms around Hermione’s waist and pulled her tightly against him, joining their lips once more in a slow, deliberate kiss. Only this time there was no surprise, no disbelief, because anything that shot sensations like that through his entire body could not be imaginary. Five and a half years of fights, plots, jealous schemes, and more recent tender moments all clashed in this small passageway in a dark Paris street. Coherent thoughts and practical actions were irrelevant. All that mattered was the feel of Hermione’s lips on his and way her body fit perfectly into his. Her arms linked around his neck, drawing him even closer, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair. Even if he wanted to stop kissing her, he couldn’t. His body was obliterating any objection his mind could throw at him. He could feel her shivering, whether it was from the cold or from the same incredible sensations he was experiencing, he didn’t know. Draco was certain his insides were melting in every spot her hands touched. He hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted this feeling and to taste her mouth. But when she kissed him, he had never felt more free or full of life, and he surrendered himself to her touch.

From somewhere outside herself, she heard a sound. It was a man clearing his throat. It was quiet at first, but grew louder and gained more urgency. Through her closed eyelids, Hermione could see a glowing light. Draco pulled away from her suddenly. She had to gasp for air, since she had been too preoccupied to bother taking a breath. The bluish swirl of the concealment charm was gone, and a short thin wizard in black robes with an official French Ministry badge stood before them. He cleared his throat one last time and looked quickly up and down the street. When he spoke, it was in a rushed whisper. “Pardon, Mademoiselle Granger and Monsieur Malfoy, I am sorry to interrupt, but we must leave this place immediately. The Muggles chasing you are coming back this way.” He pulled an ordinary looking empty soda bottle from his robe pocket. “Please, grab onto this portkey. It will take us back to your suite at the hotel and out of harm’s way. One, two, three.” On “three” the wizard tapped the bottle with his wand.

…… she felt a lurch behind her navel and could tell her feet left the ground, spinning her wildly about, but Hermione knew full well that the portkey wasn’t the primary cause for her world flipping upside-down.